


I Hate People When They're Not Polite

by redeyetorn



Category: Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Kidnapping, Murder, No Sex, Non-Graphic Violence, murder siblings, thats it thats the plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-01
Updated: 2021-03-01
Packaged: 2021-03-13 14:00:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,537
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29777211
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/redeyetorn/pseuds/redeyetorn
Summary: Drista is fed up with Tommy. Dream helps.
Relationships: Clay | Dream's Sister Drista/TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF), Clay | Dream/Clay | Dream's Sister Drista (Video Blogging RPF), Clay | Dream/TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 31





	I Hate People When They're Not Polite

_\- We’re not killing you because we hate you. There would be millions of ways to make you shut your miserable trap up, but death was the most humane way. We spent one week coming up with ideas for your own good._

A low-pitched voice reverberated around the room and then faded away. No, or was it not? Dream’s voice wasn’t low-pitched, it was closer to a theatrical act, reading out words printed out on a script that no one could see. Perhaps that’s the main reason to why this very much plausible reality felt like a laboratory experiment session, a pair of eyes preying on you caged up like a mouse.

It was five years ago you were invited to their house. Or at least it feels like it is. In reality it could have been only a few days and you wouldn’t know. You were invited to dinner, so you got your cleanest t-shirt and jeans and washed your hands down to the grime underneath your fingernails. You headed to their residence and you also remember worrying about how your face looked so red. The kid in the mirror staring back to you looked like a shy teenager -maybe it was all fake, who knows- but you liked it.

You stood in front of their porch and hesitated between pressing the doorbell and knocking on the door, and then pressed the doorbell and then knocked on the door. Dream, with a smile on his face, opened the door and ushered you in, saying that you’re too impatient. You didn’t see Drista so she must have been in her room. You followed him into the house and closed the door, and you suspect that that moment was when a steely dead weight fell onto your head. Aside from that, if you were to assume how you got here, it would all be meaningless hunches. you gave up on thinking.

After you opened your eyes you were only locked in this blue room. A room adorned with blue, childish wallpaper with rocket ships and aliens, and on top of that a star-patterned baby blue bedsheet. you had no clue whose room it was, but after a span of hours in which your feet shuddered thrice, you reckoned this room was supposedly Dream’s. Strange, because you always thought a person only made up of sharp edges like him would belong in a stark white room or a red room like a psychopath. Well, that was your bias, wasn’t it. Dream came and delivered you food twice since the sun came up and it went down again. He tried to initiate a conversation with you. He mainly asked about your well-being and said numerous times they were trying to keep you safe as possible. Emphasis on the “we”.

_\- We really don’t hate you, Tommy. It isn’t your problem. If I were to pick a reason, it would be because you’re too annoying. Yeah, Tommy, you’re annoying. Goddamnit, Tommy, you’re _so_ annoying. Too annoying for your own good._

All of our “conversations” were led by Dream. After an exchanging of words, you figured that Dream and Drista slept together in the same room and also ate there. Also they had an entire array of wire saws. Rather terrific, you would say.

_\- Did Drista also agree on kidnapping me?_

_\- She’s the one who wanted this._

_\- Me dying?_

_\- Like I said. You’re too annoying._

Honestly that was when you could finally bring yourself to be upset. You could see Dream doing this, But Drista was a girl your age. Maybe your expectations were too high. Maybe the reason you ended up here was because you tried too hard to be nice to girls you barely knew. Dream blabbered on more about how you were too loud and irritating and left. But he never taped your mouth shut while you were confined to this room. If he put a gag on you or at least snipped your tongue off, you would have finally gone quiet. But he left your tongue intact to run its bullshit like it always does. If you said something unrelated to your kidnapping, or tried to start a conversation, or make a sarcastic comment, he immediately clamped your mouth shut with his big hands and reminded you of how you’ll never be able to run away.

_\- This isn’t a place you know well. Are you thinking that this is my room? How are you so sure? Even if you were to get out of here, you’ll never be able to properly navigate your way out. Tommy, you’ll die running on the concrete road, feet naked. You’ll starve to death walking around with dull eyes. Even the animals wouldn’t be able to find your remains._

Eventually, you were able to see Drista. In the daytime, she came to you with Dream. In the nighttime, she came to you alone. You can’t describe Drista if you tried. Saying that she’s a little bigger or smaller than your peers would be a lie. You haven’t seen a girl Drista’s age. She opened her mouth after twitching her face muscles, which just reminded you of her and her brother’s similarities.

_\- Dream told you he’ll kill you in a humane way, didn’t he?_

You didn’t respond. After an eternity of being caged up, you learned that speaking to them only gets on their nerves, and if you spoke the wrong words, there were consequences. After a moment, Drista seemed to have made herself comfortable with you, smacking your forehead or slapping your cheeks and requiring answers. You just responded by licking your lips, earning yourself a punch on the mouth. After getting some answers from you by torturing, she went back to dream silently and reported our progress to him, chattering like a grade schooler tattling to their teacher.

_\- Dream, are you mad at me?_

_\- No._

_\- Even though we talked with just each other?_

_\- Drista, you don’t know how to make me mad._

Drista spat out a curse in Dream’s face. The two started fighting. There were no particular profanities exchanged, but Drista started crying, and Dream lowered his head, picking at his fingernails. It’s such a peculiar scene to watch, the supposed smartasses fighting over a few words. After a pregnant moment of silence, Drista pulled out a cutter knife from her pocket.

_\- Tommy will be able to break the blade of this knife on his own._

_\- Are you going to stab him, Drista?_

_\- Yes._

You had no other choice but to watch them, shuddering in fear like a child watching their parents fight. Electric jolts crawled over your inner thighs, threatening to jump up, so you pressed them down forcefully.

_\- You suggested we kidnap him and watch what happens._

_\- I suppose I don’t want to now, then._

_\- I always wondered why you’re the only person on the planet to never listen to me, but now I think I know the answer._

_\- What?_

_\- You’re just fucking dumb, Drista._

In a second, a cutter knife lodged itself into your left thigh. The first thing to cross your mind was that it’ll take a moment to feel the blade, so smoothly embedded in your flesh. There was no blood spurting all over the floor. No, the only red thing was the droplets of blood smudged on Drista’s hand. Dream finally removed his eyes from his nails and glanced at you.

_\- Does it hurt, Tommy?_

_\- Why do you ask me that, Drista?_

_\- You’re here because you were too loud. And now you’re saying I can’t be?_

Her grinning face reminded you of that godforsaken mask.

_\- Drista’s a person too, I can’t control her. Instead, I’ll give you two choices._

_\- One. We just let you live with that wound. Of course, the wound will rot and begin to stink, and I wonder how worse it’ll become._

_\- You’re letting me go?_

_\- No, we’re letting you live. Two. When your wound is all healed up, you die in our hands._

_\- That doesn’t make any sense, Dream._

_\- It does, Tommy._

Drista stared at you as if she was staring down at a piece of garbage.

That was the moment you realized you were nothing but a tool to them. You were a doll, so you weren’t supposed to speak, and if you spoke you weren’t supposed to be loud. At least you were supposed to throw away your expectations that you’ll be able to talk with them like a normal person would.

If you were to choose the former option, you would be able to live until you died of tetanus. Of course before that, treated like a lousy dog bowl or a broken telephone. You would gladly take up the offer if it meant merely breathing between someone’s fist, but there was no guarantee that Drista wouldn’t hurt you, nor was there any promise that Dream will feed you like he did before.

_\- Kill me._

_\- You can choose, Tommy._

_\- Then I’ll choose death._

_\- Good decision. As we said. This is all for the best. ___

__

__Dream exited the room with a happy expression on his face. He’s probably on his way to get the terrific wire saws. Your last words were requiring them to knock you out before they killed you._ _

**Author's Note:**

> Psycho Killer  
> Qu'est-ce que c'est
> 
> Co-written and translated from Korean.  
> Join the clownery at @redeyet0rn


End file.
